


Apologies

by GoodJanet



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Bittersweet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 00:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10176389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodJanet/pseuds/GoodJanet
Summary: Mitt wants to apologize.





	

**Author's Note:**

> From a very old tumblr prompt: December 15, 2013 @ 12:00 AM ~ Can someone fill this prompt? Obama and Romney haven’t seen each other for a few years. Then they see each other in the park on an autumn day. The leaves are falling as they talk, and old feelings come up again

“Hey, Mitt,” Obama says.

He sits down on the park bench next to the older man, cup of coffee in hand. The trees are the colors of flames, but Mitt doesn’t seem to notice. He seems to come out of a reverie when Barack joins him.

“Hello, Barack.”

Barack inclines his head, but otherwise says nothing, waiting to see what Mitt would say or do. Mitt has his hands on his knees, and he looks lost in thought once more. Barack sits quietly, sipping his drink and watching some kids play soccer a few yards away, totally unaware that the former president and the former governor were within kicking distance. Barack makes eye contact with a secret service man, who taps his wrist. There wasn’t much time.

“You gonna tell me why you needed to see me so urgently?”

Mitt sits up straight.

“No need to beat around the bush, is there?” Mitt gives a tightlipped smile. “I, ah. I owe you an apology.”

Barack’s brows furrow, and he frowns.

“Mitt, that was _six years_ ago. You really don’t—”

Mitt puts up his hand.

“I’m only going to say this once, so you might as well hear me out.”

Barack takes a sip and waits.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m a conservative man. I always have been. I have disagreed with you and fought with you, but I’ve always respected you. You know that.”

“I do.”

Mitt sighs like the next words he’s about to say are physically hurting him.

“Things weren’t ever supposed to be like this. I never wanted _this_. I didn’t think—”

Barack puts his hand on Mitt’s shoulder, and Mitt stops talking. The pained look on Mitt’s face returns.

“I forgive you.”

Mitt doesn’t respond right away. For a few moments, there is no sound but the wind in the leaves overhead and the kids playing in the distance.

“Thank you,” Mitt says.

Barack’s hand falls away, and Mitt immediately notices the lack of warmth on his shoulder. The secret service agent taps his watch again, and Barack knows he has to go. He stands up, and Mitt follows.

“I guess this is goodbye.”

Mitt says it almost like a question. Almost like he regrets that it is a goodbye. Every goodbye felt so permanent these days.

“I guess it is, Governor.”

Barack gives a small smile and extends his hand. Mitt follows suit.

“Godspeed, Mr. President,” Mitt says.

“Take care, Mitt.”

Two secret service men appear from behind a copse of trees and lead Barack back to his car. Mitt sits back down and wonders how he and his party had let things get so bad that he actually missed Barack Obama’s hand on his shoulder and a smile thrown in his general direction.


End file.
